


Two Drifters

by ebbj9891



Series: In Quest Of Something [21]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series, Romance, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5320625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebbj9891/pseuds/ebbj9891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian and Justin are off to see the world, beginning with Sydney.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“He was such an asshole,” Justin laments. “He was so conceited and patronising - it was like being stuck in a meeting with my father!”

“Ugh.” Brian pulls a face. “Sorry, Sunshine.”

“Believe me, you’re not as sorry as I am. It was such a waste of time.” Justin expels a dreary sigh and reaches for the container of pad thai next to Brian’s plate. “Can I have some of that?”

Brian pushes it across the coffee table. “Have the rest.”

Even though it feels close to impossible, Justin conjures up a smile and thanks Brian. As he dishes the last of the pad thai onto his plate, he tries not to dwell on his disastrous meeting with the curator of Rathur – an art gallery in Brooklyn which, up until today, Justin was very much in love with.

The curator has killed that love dead. He has also managed to piss Justin off, so much so that a bad mood has been clinging to him all day. Even venting to Brian hasn’t really helped – it’s still gnawing at Justin, persistently and painfully.

“Out with it,” Brian urges. A knowing smile is growing on his face as he prompts, “We both know you have more to say.”

Justin smirks at Brian and shakes his head a little. It’s a fraction wearisome, having a partner who can read your every expression, your every word, your every last minuscule move. Mostly, though, it’s endearing – and very much appreciated. It helps to lift the burden from Justin’s shoulders, just as he exclaims, “He called my work _juvenile._ How fucking dare he?”

His blood boils once more as he recounts everything the asshole – otherwise known as Kris – said to him.

_I’ll look forward to featuring your work once it’s evolved. This isn’t what I expected – it’s a tad juvenile, Jason._

“He called me Jason!” Justin huffs and stabs his chopsticks into his helping of pad thai. “My name was all over that goddamned portfolio – the portfolio I poured my entire being into, by the-fucking-way – and he calls me _Jason!_ What kind of person can’t even remember someone’s name, when they’re right there with them?”

“Yeah,” Brian snorts, “Who is he – me, our first night together?”

At that, Justin bursts out laughing. He slips his leg under the coffee table and kicks Brian playfully. “I wish – if he were as hot as you are, it might have lessened the blow. But he wasn’t, he was a total troll.”

Not just a troll, but an arrogant bastard, too. When Justin tried to correct him, Kris kept right on talking over him, with insult after insult. There were also a slew of self-righteous ‘you mustn’t’s’, all of which were infuriating to have to listen to.

_I appreciate the youthfulness of your work, but you’ll learn with time that originality is the lifeblood of an artist – you mustn’t rely on derivative work like this._

_It needs to be more than original – it needs to be unexpected. I can see you have a lot to say about your sexual identity… it’s very typical of young artists, especially queer ones. You mustn’t limit yourself to the predictable follies that plague so many._

_There’s talent here – you ought to grow it by seeing more of the world. You mustn’t stay within these boroughs for the rest of your life. Please don’t become one of those people who think this tedious city is the be-all and end-all._

“Tedious city?” Justin scoffs. “He can go fuck himself. He’ll have to, I doubt anyone else will.”

With a sharp sigh, Brian grabs for the portfolio. As he flicks through it, he all but growls, “Your work isn’t derivative, or predictable, or juvenile. This is brilliant. If he can’t see that-”

Then, both at once, they snap, “Fuck him.”

That returns a smile to Justin’s face. He slips his foot into Brian’s lap and rests it there. As Brian takes it in his hands and starts to massage it, Justin continues, “On my way out, I found one of the other artists crying in the lobby. Apparently he got told that his work was ‘uninspired’, ‘meaningless,’ and ‘sloppy’ – fucking bullshit! I looked at his portfolio, it was amazing. I don’t know what Kris’ problem is.”

“Forget him,” Brian urges. “He’s an arrogant asshole. Trust me – takes one to know one.”

“You’re not either of those things,” Justin says, rolling his eyes. Then he smiles and nudges Brian’s thigh with his toes. “You’re the sweetest.”

“Don’t make me come over there,” Brian gripes half-heartedly, with a hint of a smile forming on his face.

“You’re confident,” Justin continues, “Not arrogant. Trust _me –_ there’s a huge difference between you and that guy. But seriously, it’s bad enough insulting me and just about every other artist who interviewed today – but New York? Where the hell does he get off dragging New York? He kept going on and _on_ about how overrated it is. Like, why the hell did he open a gallery here?! He should fuck off back to LA if he hates it so much here. Why, though, I don’t know – this is the greatest city in the world.”

After a beat, Brian says, “To be fair, Sunshine, you don’t know that.”

Justin’s jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

“Well, like he said-”

“I’m sorry – _‘like he said’?!_ Are you taking his side?!”

“Only on one small issue,” Brian says with a shrug. “You haven’t seen any other great cities.”

“I lived in LA,” Justin protests. “I’ve visited Boston!”

Brian gives him a look that’s dripping with scepticism. “And…?”

“And…” Justin’s face scrunches into a scowl again. When he can’t think of any other great cities to suggest, he exclaims, “Seriously, why are you siding with him?!”

Brian shrugs again. “I just think we should test your theory.”

“What theory?”

“That New York is the greatest city in the world.”

“That’s not a theory,” Justin mutters. Before spearing another mouthful of pad thai, he adds sullenly, “It’s a fact and you know it.”

“So let’s prove it.” Brian smiles at Justin and says simply, “Let’s start this weekend.”

“This weekend?”

“This weekend. You’re free, right?”

“Yeah, but… what for, exactly?”

“How about Sydney?”

Once again, Justin’s jaw drops. As he stares at Brian, totally taken aback, he tries to catch up. Sydney? This weekend? _Huh?_

He doesn’t bother asking Brian if he’s serious, because Brian clearly is. Justin only wonders one thing: “Where is this coming from?”

“Okay,” Brian chuckles. “It’s a little more complicated than testing your theory. You know that label we started working with last summer – Essiss?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, they have a Sydney office and a handful of locations around Australia. Up until now, the marketing has been territorial. The Sydney office contracts out to a local firm. But their CEO wants us to take over.”

“Brian!” Justin beams at him. “That’s fantastic!”

Brian grins back and gives Justin’s foot a squeeze. “I’m supposed to meet with them next week. Wanna come with?”

“Hell yes!”

“Good. The timing couldn’t be better-” Brian jerks his head towards the window, through which they can glimpse snow-speckled Soho. “I’m sick to death of this weather.”

Justin pushes his plate aside, pulls his leg from Brian’s lap, and crawls around the coffee table to sidle up next to Brian. With a flirtacious grin, he queries, “So how long can we go for?”

“I’d like some time to build the relationship,” Brian muses. Then, with a growing smile, he adds, “And I’d like some time with you. How does three weeks sound? Maybe four, if Cynthia and Ted can spare me.”

The thought of all that time away sends a rush through Justin. He can’t help but grin, and it soon spreads from ear-to-ear as he contemplates weeks spent travelling with Brian. And hey, escaping the chilly weather can’t hurt. Honestly, experiencing some warmer weather would be a welcome change.

“What did I tell you?” Justin cups Brian’s face in his hands and kisses him gently. “You’re the sweetest.”

“Don’t go spreading that around,” Brian chuckles. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

Justin laughs and leans into Brian’s side. As they start talking flights and hotels, he forgets about the awful hour spent in Kris’ office, having his prized portfolio torn to shreds. All he can think about is the approaching weekend, and all else that lies ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

When Brian wakes up, the first thing he sees are lights twinkling across a sprawling cityscape. It isn't his cityscape, though. Disoriented, he pulls himself up against the headboard, and stares out at the unfamiliar scene.

It takes a moment for his head to clear, and then he realises why everything looks so different: they’re not in Soho anymore, they’re in Sydney.

They haven’t seen much of it so far. When they arrived last night, close to midnight, the combination of almost thirty hours in transit and the sudden onslaught of summer hit them both hard. Brian can hardly remember anything beyond handing his credit card over. Seeing as their clothes and luggage have been tossed haphazardly nearby the en suite, his best guess is that they came straight up to the room and crashed.

Though they didn’t see much of the city when they arrived, Brian can certainly see a lot of it now. From 72 floors up, through wall-to-ceiling windows, the city is on display. As the sprawling lights glitter under the night sky, Brian wonders what it would be like to venture through them.

Suddenly, a memory returns to him - one from before he handed over his credit card. They hadn’t even entered the World Tower yet; they were still outside, waiting for the driver to finish unloading their luggage. Justin was leaning into Brian’s side, sagging against him sleepily, and Brian was running his hand through Justin’s hair. He remembers feeling the strands, slightly damp with sweat, and noticing his own skin growing dewy from the summer heat.

Brian couldn’t be gladder that they’ve relocated to a warmer climate. He had grown tired of the cold snap consuming New York. It was a miserable thing, getting up and going to work every morning, having to brave blistering winds and slushy sidewalks. And those were the gentle mornings, when there wasn’t rain or snowfall to contend with!

As relief sweeps through Brian, he grabs the remote and turns on the TV. He mutes it immediately, so as not to disturb Justin, and flicks through the channels until he finds a station with the news. He spies the forecast showing on the top-right of the screen - 28 degrees and sunny, apparently. That’s more like it!

The light from the TV washes across the room as Brian turns his attention back to the lights illuminated across Sydney. He continues gazing out at the city for a few moments more, and then he turns away and curls up behind Justin.

“Sunshine,” Brian whispers. He kisses Justin’s shoulder, then his neck, then his cheek, but Justin doesn’t stir. When Brian kisses his jawline, which is shadowed with stubble, Justin murmurs, twists a little, then stills.

With the TV casting light across them - blue, then gold, then blue again - Brian is stolen away momentarily. He is reminded of the loft and all the nights they spent there. It brings a smile to his face, which he then touches to Justin’s shoulder. He nudges his sleeping partner and murmurs his name.

Justin doesn’t stir at all this time, so Brian gives up trying to wake him. Honestly, he’s still pretty tired… tired enough to drop back down and succumb to sleep all over again.

So he does. He fits himself snugly around Justin, so that they're touching from top to toe, and then closes his eyes. Brian is vaguely aware of the light from the TV cast over them, fading from colour to colour, brightening then dimming. He can’t be bothered turning it off. He’s too tired, for one, and there’s also something comforting about it.

As he drifts off, he dreams of Justin, chasing through all of those glittering lights.

**TBC**


End file.
